Wake Up, and Smell the Coffee
by Bottlebrush
Summary: Everyone knows Remus Lupin likes tea. But he did drink coffee too. A bit of fluffy wishfulfilment. Set in OotP and PostHBP. Very mild slash SBRL.


Title: Wake Up, and Smell the Coffee.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world or its characters. J. K. Rowling does.

Summary: Everyone knows Remus Lupin likes tea, but he did drink coffee too. A short piece of fluffy wish-fulfilment. Very mild SBRL slash. Set during OotP and post-HBP.

Remus Lupin woke, feeling terrible. The full moon had been two nights before, and he had taken Wolfbane Potion, but he still ached all over. Nevertheless, he smiled.

What made him smile was the pleasant odour of coffee drifting up from the kitchen, and the knowledge that it was there for his benefit. Most of the time, he preferred tea, but he did like a big mug of coffee first thing in the morning. When he made it himself, as he did most days, he was content with hot water poured over a spoonful of instant coffee granules, but on the few mornings when he slept late, Sirius made the coffee and Sirius was an expert. The best ground coffee that money could buy combined with the incomparable Black technique to create a brew that tasted almost as good as it smelled. This was one of those mornings.

The tradition had started in their last year at Hogwarts, when seventh-years were allowed to make hot drinks in their dormitories, and continued after they left school. And here, in Grimmauld Place, Sirius still remembered how to make the best coffee ever.

Remus stretched his arms, then his back, which made him feel better. He sat up, intending to follow the delicious aroma down to the kitchen, but before he could do so, Sirius was there with two mugs of coffee, sitting on the bed and handing a mug to Remus, grinning and saying "Welcome to the world." That was part of the tradition too.

The tradition ended right there, because later that day they received the news that Harry and the other children were in deadly peril in the Department of Mysteries, and the rest is history. Remus never drank coffee again. He gave his jar of instant to Molly, who was grateful although the only Weasley who really liked it was Charlie, and he was hardly ever there.

-ooOOOoo-

Remus Lupin woke feeling good, which surprised him as he had gone to bed the night before tired and aching. But he had had a good night, and was rested and pain-free, something that was rare for him now because added to the effect of his transformations he suffered wounds that had never really healed, wounds received in that last terrible battle in which Voldemort had been finally defeated and killed. The victory had been won at great cost: Hestia Jones; Bill and Charlie Weasley and their wives, Fleur and Tonks; Cho Chang; Seamus Finnegan; Susan Bones; all these and more young, strong, incredibly brave people died, while the weary old werewolf survived. But this morning he felt neither weary nor old. He did, however, seem to be experiencing olfactory hallucination. He distinctly smelled coffee: rich, strong, freshly-made coffee. And there was no coffee in the house.

Someone must have got in, and was making himself at home in the kitchen, having brought his own coffee supplies with him. It hardly seemed credible, but if the intruder were a Muggle – well, there was no limit to the strangeness of Muggle behaviour. Remus got out of bed and padded to the door. He was not in the least afraid, only curious. He no longer had any enemies in the wizard world, and he certainly did not fear a Muggle burglar. Indeed, if a burglar could find anything in his house worth taking, he was welcome to it. Remus descended the stairs, stepping lightly, silently.

There was someone in the kitchen; a tall man, with his back to Remus, stretching out his arm to take a mug from one of the hooks on the wall. As he did so he turned, and Remus saw his face. It was Sirius, not as Remus had last seen him, thin and drawn, marked by years of suffering, but Sirius in his youthful beauty: long black hair, perfectly sculpted features, and his eyes……his eyes……

"Either you're a ghost, or I'm going mad," Remus remarked coolly.

Sirius smiled. "You're not going mad," he said. "And I'm not a ghost, at least, not in the way you mean. See."

He held out his hand, and Remus took it. It was solid and warm, and its firm grip sent a vibration through Remus, arousing feelings that had been dormant for years. "What……how……" he began, hardly knowing what the question was that he wanted answered.

"I think you'll have to see for yourself, Moony," Sirius replied gently. "Turn round and go back upstairs. Don't be afraid. I'll be right behind you."

It had not occurred to Remus to be afraid until Sirius told him not to, but obediently he turned and retraced his steps. He felt he could take the stairs two at a time, but instead he walked sedately up and into the bedroom, and over to the bed in which Remus Lupin was lying very still.

"You look so peaceful," said Sirius's voice in his ear. "You must have died in your sleep, without pain. There was too much pain in your life, it's fitting that your death was free from it."

Remus turned, and his lover was standing behind him, as he had said he would, with a steaming, fragrant mug in each hand. He held one out to Remus, who took it automatically.

"Welcome to the new world," said Sirius.


End file.
